


The Embers Spark

by thatdamnuchiha



Series: In the Company of Elves [23]
Category: Naruto, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Elf Sakura, Elfling Sakura, Elves, F/M, Glorfindel-centric, Growing Up, Haruno Sakura Needs a Hug, Memories, POV Glorfindel, POV Third Person, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Protectiveness, Reincarnation, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29360649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatdamnuchiha/pseuds/thatdamnuchiha
Summary: He sees it most nights; snippets of a life lived in a strange world which makes children murder other children. It is not a life he wishes for any, not least for the faceless body he seems to inhabit in those dreams as nothing more than a passenger.They were just dreams though, a warning perhaps, a reminder not to let another child suffer the way they had in the First Age. But then he dreams of his death in that strange body – the boy the girl, for the form is female, loved with a hand of chirping white lightning rammed through her chest, betrayal choking her like the blood in her lungs does.That should have been the end of those dreams.But then he dreams of that same girl again, but this time something is very different: because she’s not dead. Rather, she’s alive and breathing once more, with scars of betrayal and loss set upon her heart, but this time she lives as one of his kindred.
Relationships: Glorfindel (Tolkien)/Haruno Sakura
Series: In the Company of Elves [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1430875
Comments: 9
Kudos: 143





	The Embers Spark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rhohel_of_the_Shire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhohel_of_the_Shire/gifts).



> It would appear I have a penchant for returning the favour when it comes to gifts...
> 
> Anyway, this is a little oneshot which will (eventually) have a sequel. This is what I spent my time on when I probably ought to have been focusing on the next chapter of 'Wild War Child', 'Some Fall By Virtue', or 'Quoth the Raven', but there's still a good few hours left in the day for me to work on that!
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy this latest work of mine.
> 
> *mild spoilers for possible trigger warning below*
> 
> Tried to ensure it doesn't come off as creepy, given Sakura's a child for a good portion of this (hence the Pre-Relationship tag) and there shouldn't really be anything which comes off creepy - unless you're gonna throw up over the fact that Glorfindel watches her grow up, has disapproval at how she's raised, wants to protect her as such, and then falls for who she becomes... So possible trigger warning, I guess for that, maybe?

Summer heat filled his rooms as he awoke, breathing heavily, snapshots of the dream he just had lingering in his mind like the cloying scent of blood upon the battlefield. It would linger and lurk for days, he knew from experience. He could still remember it so very vividly, stuck in that tiny _female_ form as he had been for those dreams.

His hands closed around the glass of water at his bedside, sipping from it then, ignoring the slight tremble in his limbs as he did so – wishing all the while that the water would wash away the remnants of that nightmarish life he had seemingly dreamt up. “What do you wish to warn me of?” he murmured, playing with the idea that perhaps he was being _given_ such dreams. It would make an alarming amount of sense given their linearity and the story they made.

The first dream had come with him in the body of a small female child, bullied by others. Something which would never happen in an elven realm, or so he liked to think, what with children being few and far between. No parents would ever let another be so cruel to their child. The fact that the children had all had the rounded ears of the Secondborn… Glorfindel tilted his head, taking another sip of his drink as he tried to push away those memories of the most recent dream. He could still vividly remember the girl standing protectively before her two _teammates,_ strands of petal pink hair fluttering in the winds as it was cut from her head. _Children made to kill other children._ The thought of such a world filling him with dread and despair. But the girl had survived. It wasn’t right to think of him as her. He was just a passenger in that body, the emotions seeping through to him when he dreamt of being trapped in that small female form.

“What a brave little child you are,” he whispered, a huff escaping him as he reminded himself it was but a dream. Pink hair was hardly a natural colouring. _Everyone in that strange world had odd tones of hair colour – so very bright and vivid._ Glorfindel thought it suited them, what with them being mortal. Bright splashes of colour who lived and loved so very brightly that they burned before flickering out of existence. For if the Secondborn were like flame, then the Firstborn were like water – constant and unchanging like the tides of the sea.

Sighing softly, he pulled himself from his thoughts then, pondering on whether or not to venture to find his dear friend, confidant of their king, Lord Elrond. _Or Elrond,_ as he was constantly reminded to call the ellon when they were in private with no need to wait upon the frivolities and proprieties which their kin so loved to engage in there in the courts of King Gil-Galad. He was a master of the healing arts. _He would probably be able to help him with the dilemma of his dreams which ate away at him so._

But he feared this was a problem for him to work out. Him and him alone. No one else had spoken to him of dreaming of a world where children killed other children. He thought most, many particularly in that Second Age they lived in now, would be horrified and somewhat traumatised. The First Age had been cruel – something to never be repeated, though never able to be forgotten. If others were dreaming of that cruel world which he seemed to have dreamt up then he would have heard whispers of it. “’tis not a dream to be shared,” Glorfindel murmured, getting himself dressed and ready for the day ahead. “More of a nightmare to be completely honest…”

One he intended to conquer, or at least work out the meaning of, on his own.

* * *

Her teammate left her in the night, and he felt the slight burn of betrayal she felt in her chest, the powerful love she had for the boy who she had spent so much time with, guarding each other’s backs on these so-called missions. _Mercenaries._ This ‘Village Hidden in the Leaves’ was a city of mercenaries. That much he had worked out after dreaming far too often of being stuck in that girl’s body. _Sakura,_ that was her name – only the names of the folk in those horrific lands remaining as what he realised to be _untranslated_ from the native language of those people.

There had been darkness and madness swirling within the eyes of the teammate who had left. He didn’t quite know or understand why the girl had fallen for that boy. Something to do with the mystery which seemed to swirl around him. A seed of love which had started to bloom the more and more time the girl had spent with him. It was a powerful, almost intoxicating emotion, and it bled over to him throughout the time he had spent trapped in her head, stuck in her body as nothing more than a voiceless passenger. _The love of a mortal… it was so different to that which his kin were said to feel._ It was so very bright and warm and rushing. _Impatient yet so very affectionate._ It stoked something in his own chest, and he felt so very cold at times when he was awake and without those burning embers, the bright sparks of love which the girl whose skin he wore in his dreams felt.

_The boy was so very lucky,_ or so he mused in his waking hours when he could string together coherent thoughts. _Even if he didn’t appear to realise it, what with having left two of the people who loved him so very dearly behind in the name of his revenge._ But then again, unlike the affections of his kin which always burnt, steady and constant, once they had been ignited, the affections of mortals could be so very fickle and changing. They were not confined to marry only once, not that it really was a constraint. A frown pulled at his lips, even as he relaxed in the quiet stillness of his private chambers, a pot of celandine bursting into bloom on his windowsill, filling the room with its scent. _They had always bloomed on the lawns of the House of the Golden Flower._ He loved their colouring, their scent, what they reminded him of, even if his heart occasionally ached with loss. That white city would never be seen again, sunken beneath the waters as it was, already torn to ruins long before the drowning of Beleriand.

Shaking his head, casting away such fond _and painful_ memories, concentrating more on his current dilemma then: those dreams. He wanted to figure them out, figure out why he would dream as such, whether they were dreams being _given_ to him and if so _why?_ Why did he have to know of this girl-child’s struggles? Was there something brewing amongst the Secondborn? Was that why he dreamt of such a strange child in a strange world which he prayed would never become a reality then and there…? “Why is it,” he murmured to the quiet air surrounding him, “things can never be simple when it comes to me?” he asked, standing up then, the room feeling terribly stuffy all of a sudden. He wanted to _breathe_ , and what better way than upon the balcony which came with his rooms. _A perk of being a hero of his kin, of being one of the ‘mighty’ of the Firstborn._ “Why do I dream of _Sakura?”_ he asked, staring up at the cloudless night sky and the stars which merrily twinkled above him then.

Nobody answered though, not that he had been expecting anything. They were answers he needed to figure out for himself. After all, he doubted he was dreaming of children to being subjected to such violence without reason. It was still dark by the time he re-entered his rooms, enjoying the peaceful quiet, even as he ignored the odd burn in his chest. _Truly,_ he mused, a wry smile upon his lips, _he was becoming too entrenched in this ‘Sakura’s’ feelings and the way they bled over to him._ His own feelings felt so much more subdued, like the sea on a calm day, deep and at times unfathomable to others. _And yet the little mortal girl he dreamed of was like the winds calling that sea up to storm._ Glorfindel didn’t quite know how he felt about that. He didn’t know how to feel about that storm of emotions those nightmarish dreams brought to life. He didn’t know whether he wanted to continue watching that girl, whether he wanted to turn his back on such thing – cover his eyes and ears from such violence and the way children bled and died – or whether he wanted to somehow find _Sakura,_ pick her up, run away, and take her far from that life which he saw through her eyes.

_“How do you manage it?”_ the voice of his long dead friend rang out through his mind, taking him back. _Though he had probably been re-embodied by then, noble and self-sacrificing as he had been._ Glorfindel smiled at the thought, hope filling his heart at that. _“Being so very cheerful and happy and noble all of the time…”_ He remembered looking over at his friend then, golden brows drawn together in question as he stared at the puzzled form of his friend – who had coincidentally been staring at him as though he were a puzzle in need of working out. He remembered why he of all who had fallen that day was chosen to be sent back across the seas to face the perils of Arda once more. Scholars said it was because he had regained the primitive innocence and joy of their people. _Some said it was because of his mother’s blood – because of his Vanyarin heritage – and all knew the Vanya were most beloved of Manwë and Varda._ He wondered if any would ever be able to fathom the idea that he had missed Arda. He wondered if any would ever be able to understand the odd blend of feelings within him, that he had been granted leave to return because he was not ready to settle upon the peaceful shores of Aman. He wondered if any would think less of him for such reasons. Though he rather doubted it, what with being who he was. _A hero of the First Age,_ they called him as they looked up to him and placed him upon a pedestal. Dimly, he wondered what the girl-child he dreamt of would become. He wondered why he was dreaming of such a life and how it would tie in with the future yet to come. _If it would tie in, given he was assuming it to be a warning of something to come._

_In good time._ The answers would come in good time, or so he decided as he returned to his bed, resting then, waiting for the familiar dreams of blood and death to come. _And, like clockwork, they did._

* * *

He could only lie back and watch, forever to be a passenger in that dream body, only able to watch and do nothing to help as the girl struggled and struggled and grew that much more as the days flew by. _Mortals aged so very quickly,_ he was reminded. His heart ached somewhat, even as he watched the years fly by. He watched as she came into her own strengths – and what a contradiction they were to everything he had learnt over the years, only further cementing the idea that this was some wild fantasy. _A strange dream._

The girl became a healer, training yet to become one who could stand at the front of battle while also mending that which was broken. A being who could heal a broken body and yet make the mountains tremble beneath her fists. A being whose skill at healing was not diminished by taking life, as was often the way with his kindred. Yet there she was, becoming something of a contradiction to him. _He was so very fascinated by her, stuck in her imaginary body as he was._

He thought it would remain that way. He thought she would grow and grow, shining brighter and brighter in his eyes. He thought she would grow, perhaps bring her teammate home, marry him, have children, before dying peacefully at an old age. That was the life he would have wished for her – a long life even in that bloody world, filled with happiness, joy, and that hopelessly bright love which raged about in her chest, forever to be directed at the boy called Sasuke. But Sasuke hurt her, more so when she heard the news that he had all but betrayed them. He had joined with their enemy, the ones who were hunting people like her teammate – and that was a whole other can of worms. _Sacrifices._ Oh, how he had raged after learning what went down on in that bloodied world he prayed was naught but a world of fiction designed in his mind to teach him a lesson of sorts. _What the lesson was, well, that was still up in the air…_

But the girl wouldn’t get that life. The world which she lived in was so very cruel. That was a fact both he and her learnt, but while he would live on he knew, the lesson had come too late for her. There was a certain, bitter irony to it. She had gone there to kill her teammate, and yet that powerful love he so admired her for – _he loved to bask in its warmth_ – had prevented her from killing the one she loved.

Uchiha Sasuke, Glorfindel knew then, did not deserve Haruno Sakura.

He would not get her, and the fact saddened and relieved him as he stood there, trapped in the girl-child’s body. Betrayal and hurt bloomed in her chest, the pain of those emotions far exceeding that of the chirping lightning-clad hand buried through her chest. How sad and ironic it was that the boy had quite literally ripped through a heart which had loved him so much.

“Sasuke!”

Glorfindel could only smile quietly in satisfaction, even as the silvery-haired teacher howled his old student’s name, and he knew in that instant, from the sound of that howled name, that Uchiha Sasuke would never be forgiven by that man. Arms came around her then, keeping her body above the water even as the world darkened in their shared vision. _Glorfindel remembered the reaching grasp of death all too well, along with the coldness which had claimed him once before._ Haruno Sakura was going to die – and at such a young age too. She was barely more than a child. _A teenager,_ he dimly recalled someone of her rough age being called amongst the Secondborn. She could have had so much more life ahead of her, and she would have had it too, if not for the boy named Uchiha Sasuke.

A boy who was taking out his rage against one person out on everyone around him like a child throwing a tantrum _but he did so much more damage than a mere child_. A boy who would never realise how much Haruno Sakura had loved him. Glorfindel felt an alarming amount of dark glee at that thought. _If only because Uchiha Sasuke did not deserve the affections he had felt so vividly, trapped as he was in that dream body._ A rather ugly emotion it was for him, but he didn’t quite care in that moment. He had grown _with_ Sakura. He knew her better than any, or so he liked to think. _How could he not hold her as precious to him?_ Even if she was but a dream, an illusion, a being of some dreamt up world who he would never get to meet.

“Sasuke!” another voice rang out then, even as Sakura bled out there, unable to heal herself, nor were there any around her who could heal such wounds. _He had ripped her heart out, both figuratively and literally._ Even one of those was bad enough on its own… _but together…_ The pain was exquisite.

Sasuke laughed, a dark, biting sound which Glorfindel _hated._

_Spending so much time in a mortal body, even in dreams, and feeling what they felt had so evidently affected him so._ Glorfindel wasn’t quite sure what he was meant to feel about that, even as the conversation between the two boys continued over his head. Betrayal and hurt flooded through Sakura then, so very vivid and vicious that he felt and heard that biting thought.

“I forgive you,” Naruto had said only moments before, despite a voice choked with tears.

_He had chosen him – her murderer – over her, the one who had stayed at his side the entire time._ The thought was a cutting one, and it cut Sakura to the bone. Glorfindel could feel that much, and his heart wept for the girl, even as she breathed her last, reeking of despair, sorrow, and betrayal – an ache in her heart, a wound, Glorfindel knew, that if she had lived, would have left scars upon her. Unseen scars, but they would have been grievous nonetheless. They were a horrid cocktail of emotions, and Glorfindel wanted nothing more than to embrace the girl right then and there. The girl he felt as though he had watched over from behind a thick wall of unbreakable glass. He had watched her come out of her shell in all the ways he thought mattered, and now she was _dead_ and he could not do a thing about it. _Even if these were his dreams and he ought to have had some measure of control over them so._

_“Always so noble, are you not?”_ the voice of his friend echoed through his ears. _“Taking another’s pain and making it feel as if it is your own… Tell me, how do you bear it?”_

Glorfindel woke with a start, his breathing heavy, tears, warm and wet, trickling down his cheeks as his heart mourned. _Because bloody though that world might have been, a world he hated with every waking breath he took, he would never get to see Sakura again. He wouldn’t be able to feel that burning love in her chest which had him feeling so very intoxicated. He would never be able to watch her grow into the woman she ought to have become._ Part of him, he realised, had been so expectant to see that which she would become. He had longed to witness it, because he knew, deep down in his heart, he would have loved the sight. He pushed his golden locks back from his face, a burst of mournful laughter escaping him then as he looked up at his ceiling.

“My,” he whispered, throwing open the doors to his balcony, needing that cold night air to calm him down from the burning rage and pain which was eating at him. “You are but a girl in my dreams… scarcely more than a child,” he said, staring up at the sky as though they would have answers to the inexplicable feeling of sorrow and loss he felt. _And the burning embers of an anger he had not felt for hundreds of years building within him, wanting to be let out._ But that, or so Glorfindel mused, would not do. “Tell me, why is it that I mourn your loss so… even though you were not alive to begin with… you were naught but a dream, so tell me, why does your death plague me so?” His fingers clenched, even as they gripped onto the railing, tears cooling on his face as the breeze caressed his skin so very gently.

His heart ached, but he would bear that loss, he knew, just as surely as he knew he would never witness Haruno Sakura and her strange world ever again.

He was only half correct.

* * *

Haruno Sakura was dead.

Glorfindel knew that with certainty – so he didn’t quite understand where he was, trapped in the throes of his sleep as he was. _Again?_ That was all he could think, even as he found himself tagging along for the ride in a tiny body. He could tell it was so very small thanks to the furniture in the room. It was a child’s room – that much was obvious. Though it was very much unlike Haruno Sakura’s childhood room.

He wondered who he would watch grow this time, focus lingering on the mirror in the corner of the room. As if she had heard him, the small child made her way towards it, walking towards it so very slowly, anticipation building within him at ever step closer they took. He wondered who he was watching then, wondering who _he would watch die._ His heart ached, the loss of Sakura still so very fresh in his mind. _But it was a quiet, hidden grief. For none bar him knew of Haruno Sakura nor her tragic death. And so he would weather and bear the grief quietly._ The grief he didn’t quite understand, because he wasn’t quite sure what Haruno Sakura had been to him.

“Haruno Sakura is dead.”

His mind came to a halt in its thoughts at the sweet little voice which had said those damning words, his throat feeling incredibly dry— _or was that her throat?_ He wasn’t sure of that, but he knew his own heart was racing, wherever it was, shock flooding through him as the little girl stood in front of the mirror. _Because her hair was pink, the exact shade of Haruno Sakura’s hair. Because her eyes were the exact same shade of green as Haruno Sakura’s had been too._

“So who are you?” the girl asked, glaring at her reflection then, and Glorfindel’s heart ached with misery, loss, and hope. _Because it couldn’t be…_ Haruno Sakura was mortal, and they could not be re-embodied the way elves could…

_They also couldn’t suddenly become elves…_

Not the mortals of that world. _And that was what it was, wasn’t it?_ Glorfindel mourned, staring then at the irrefutable proof of that girl’s heritage – pointed ears sticking out from underneath her straight pink locks. _It had to be a dream though… it didn’t make any sense otherwise… because if it wasn’t a dream, then Haruno Sakura really had lived in such a world and—_

A fist, so tiny and pale-skinned reared back then, slamming into the mirror, shattering it then, a few scattered pieces raining down upon the floor where she stood, looking at her cracked reflection then, green eyes flashing with anger, sorrow, and betrayal. “Dead things are supposed to _stay dead,_ ” she hissed, glaring at her own reflection, even as the door to her room was all but slammed open with a startled cry. The little girl – _Haruno Sakura,_ his mind corrected – didn’t look away from her own reflection, too busy glaring at it as she was.

“Lothris!” came the masculine cry, wide blue eyes taking up their shared vision then as Sakura was pulled off her feet, away from the shards of shattered glass. “Lothris, what is the matter with you?” the ellon holding her demanded, shaking her somewhat as he held her in his arms. Dimly, Glorfindel approved of such an action – getting her away from the shattered glass which would only hurt her so. The larger part of him was still caught up with Sakura’s existence there and then, because her name was no longer so very foreign to his ears. Rather it was a name suited to one of his kindred.

_Lothris._

The name suited her well.

* * *

He saw the ellon who had pulled her away from the shattered glass when he surveyed the training of another group under a different captain. There was a war within him then, a possible answer to his questions dangled right before his eyes, and Glorfindel didn’t know if he wanted the confirmation of the existence of _Lothris._ Because if Lothris existed, pink-haired and green-eyed as she was, then there was proof his dreams were all too real. _Proof that the ‘Elemental Nations’ existed in some time and place, and that his sweet Lothris-Sakura had been a victim of them. That Sasuke had quite literally ripped out her heart and caused her pain and agony._ The thought of such a truth made something dark and ugly stir.

It also made a need to embrace the girl he had watched grow up – and grow up again once more as one of his kin – grow, the need to try and help her shoulder the pain he could still feel lingering within her, blossoming like a bud of celandine when the days of summer came. There was a wound in her heart, scars of _Sasuke’s_ piercing hand ripping her heart out of her chest lingering there.

Part of him wanted nothing more than to try and help her heal. _Because out of everyone there, he knew her best and that meant he would be able to help her that much more._ But he didn’t go up to the ellon and ask ‘do you have a pink-haired sister called Lothris?’ That would hardly be appropriate. He also wouldn’t be able to explain quite how he knew of a child who had yet to be presented to the outside world.

_And he dreaded the confirmation that Lothris had been through a hellish torment which had left her with such horrid scars, young as she was._

* * *

“You have outgrown us, Lothris,” another captain spoke, a smile upon his face as he looked down at her. “Truthfully I am saddened to see you go, but I know that Lord Glorfindel will take good care of you.”

If he had been in his own body he would have blinked, dread sinking in his stomach like a punch to the gut. He had been away for a short while – to Rivendell, if only to relax somewhat after the stress of his latest dreams and worries – and the one who he had left his duties to temporarily…

_“Anwarher scouted someone from another patrol,”_ he remembered Losseneth telling him upon his return earlier that very day. _“It has been arranged for her to join our patrol tomorrow. I hope this is not too soon after our loss of Fondil, but we hope to assimilate her into our formation before we venture out on our next patrol rotation.”_ The snowy-haired elleth had always been so very reliable, and never had he loathed it as much as he did in that instant. _“If you have any issues with this, then please take this up with me rather than Anwarher. I was the one to give the final approval in your stead.”_ He could hardly fault Anwarher for noticing her skill. He had seen her enough, training, ever ignorant to the fact he was there with her in spirit if not in body. She had grown in a bloody world, and the fact he knew of that meant he could see the result of her first childhood. _The same childhood she had never truly made it out of._

He woke up then, with the distinct impression he would not be dreaming of being with Lothris any longer. Rather, he would be meeting with her face to face, seeing the fully-grown elleth she had become. He had seen her in the mirror before, fully-grown as she was, and he knew she was beautiful. _He knew that which he felt for her was something he probably ought not to, given he had watched her grow up from a child to a teenager to a child to an adult at last._ The urge he had to wrap her in his arms and tell her that Uchiha Sasuke didn’t deserve her – he never had – was utterly overwhelming.

But he couldn’t do such a thing.

It would be unseemly, what with her not knowing him, not knowing of his presence in her mind. _Not knowing that he knew of the past she had so desperately tried to keep hidden and buried. That he knew of why wildness and madness lingered in her gaze._

_And that he loved it._

* * *

“Is she acceptable?” Losseneth asked, standing beside him then, oblivious to the war within him and the urge he had to embrace their newest member and attempt to heal her numerous hurts he had only ever been able to watch. _Helpless,_ that was that which he had felt at witnessing the many trials Lothris had been put through.

Glorfindel stared down at the courtyard hidden away from prying eyes in other buildings, grey eyes surveying the aftermath of the spar. “Of course she is,” he murmured, straightening his back then as Losseneth stared at him, curiosity evident in her gaze. “You and Anwarher chose her. I expected nothing less,” he remarked, fingers digging into the stone balustrade.

She turned then, as if hearing his softly spoken words, and his heart leapt as she stared at him with those green eyes he had only ever managed to catch glimpses of in the mirror before. The same green eyes which made his heart leap and something rattle in his chest. The same eyes which made the _thing_ with thorns wrapped around his heart squeeze.

Lothris Aearien stared at him, green eyes wide and bright as they caught sight of him standing there, staring back at her. She gazed at him, confusion and _recognition_ in her eyes, and a wall of iron around her weeping heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned, because hopefully they'll be another story out (eventually because I need to start finishing works before I post new WIPs up) tentatively titled 'And The Ashes Remain' which will be from Sakura's POV.


End file.
